Too Cute to be Straight?

First off, I would like to say that I have a really hard time spelling the word "February." I constantly want to spell it "Februrary." And every once in a while my brain does so much of that "You know there's that 'r' in there you always fuck up," that I actually spell it "Februruary." I also have problems with the words, colonel (big thanks to colonel colonel for teaching me to spell it correctly), restaurant, exercise, conscientious, and vacuum. Needless to say, I'm very excited (another word I tend to spell wrong) that this month is about to end. I'm tired of writing the word and misspelling it.



Does anyone remember when Jerry Falwell proclaimed that Tinky Winky, one of the Teletubbies, was gay? Now, there are many things that could be discussed here, such as the fact that Tinky Winky is fictional, and that Tinky Winky doesn't have any genitals and that Tinky Winky appears to have the same kind of affection for both the male and female Teletubbies, who appear to be rather androgynous anyway-- but instead I want to talk about all of this "exposing children to evil."

Falwell said that because Tinky Winky carries a purse (or "magic bag" or whatever you want to call it), is purple, and has his antenna shaped like a triangle, that these "subtle depictions" are "no doubt intentional." He went on to say in statements, that, "As a Christian, I feel that role modeling the gay lifestyle is damaging to the moral lives of children."



If anyone understands being gay in the most purest terms, it's probably children!

When I was younger I lived in San Francisco, California. I had two friends who were a year or two older than me, who lived together. They were best friends who got to live together. I thought that was the coolest damn thing in the world. When I asked how they got to do that, they explained that their dads were best friends, and when their moms divorced their dads, their dads moved in together. It made sense to me, just fine. Rent is cheaper that way, after all, right? Plus their house smelled amazing and their dads looked like Darryl Hall and John Oates, and there was nothing cooler than that, to me.

One night I spent the night at their house. They sat me down and told me that they had something very important to tell me. The looks on their faces were pretty serious and so I nodded and my eyes bulged. They said, "Our dads are gay." I really had no idea what that meant, but it sounded really important, so I tried to play it off cool.

"Oh, yeah, really?" (see how cool I was?)

"You don't know what that means, do you?" One of them asked me.

"Uh huhhh... I do." (I didn't, and they could tell, so they proceeded to explain.)

"They live together because they want to live together. They love each other," the other explained.

And here I thought that was the coolest thing in the world. Because their moms didn't love their dads anymore, they loved each other. Now that I'm older, I'm pretty sure that the moms left once they found out the dads loved each other, but at the time it seemed so simple. So logical.

"Everyone needs a best friend," I said to them.

"They have sex," one of them spat out. I could tell that they had lost plenty of friendships over this, and they were ready for me to leave, too.

"Well, duh. That's what grown-ups do when they love each other," I said. "I do have cable, you know."

And that was all I thought about it. I don't think that their dads "damaged" my "moral life" in any way.

Children don't assume people are "evil." It's when they see their parents suck their teeth and shake their heads that they wonder what's different about those people. People just love to snicker and giggle about making puppets and children's icons have these "secret sexual lives." They turn Mr. Roger's Neighborhood into the Jerry Springer Show. Every time someone sees my Sesame Street books or my Grover cup some asshole has to start in with the, "You know Bert and Ernie are gaaaaaay, right?" You know what? Bert and Ernie live together because they are best friends. They're fucking puppets! They were seven years old! Maybe Bert was ten. Tops. Don't even give me the argument that they had adult voices, because when you were little, you didn't even give that a second thought.

Pooh is a bear and Piglet is a pig. They are also about six years old. Christopher Robin, who was the one making up the stories, was ten. They aren't giving each other blow jobs on the Hundred Acre Wood. They're fucking toys!

Why are all these freaks trying to ruin my childhood memories with sexual images?

Just let the children's shows do their jobs. Let them educate the youth. That's what they have degrees for.

Children start by looking at people just like they see themselves. Then they start to compare. It's when their parents tell them something is wrong that they question whether or not they should like someone.

I have a feeling I'm preaching to the choir, here, but for fuck's sake, is anyone else tired of this? Just people stretching for any kind of conspiracy theory that leads to the boycott of yet another thing that could possibly bring joy into a child's life! They have to make their own decisions, sometime. They have to learn about the world and people in it. Wouldn't it be simpler to have your child see a man in a gay pride parade and say, "Is that man carrying a purse like you do, Mommy?" And when you say yes he says, "Oh, just like Tinky Winky!" And that's it. There's no need to explain fetishes or gender issues until the child is older and can understand such a complex discussion. Everyone. Is. Different.

I started reading Stephen King books when I was eight. I read Lord of the Flies at ten. If you had kept me sheltered, I would never have been as intelligent and literate as I am. Because when does the sheltering stop?

Kids just want someone there to answer their questions. They are able to rationalize all sorts of things. But who knows? Maybe if Prince had seen Tinky Winky sooner he wouldn't wear so much purple. Getting my Prince cassette taken from me as a child for asking why Nikki* was masturbating with a magazine, and "wouldn't that hurt?" is a different story for a different time.


*couldn't find the song, so I could only link to lyrics, but I'm sure most of you know it)